


Fear of Letting Go

by dellastarr



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellastarr/pseuds/dellastarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus contemplates his love of Alec and his blue eyes.  (implied another from the series) No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear of Letting Go

“And I'm swimming in the night  
Chasing down the moon  
The deeper in the water  
The more I long for you”  
Queens of the Stone Age, “…Like Clockwork”, 2013

 

And the moonlight dissolves in your hair, a glossy purple sheen, tossed in with shadows which swallow all my doubt and longing. Yet when I think of life without you, what is left, but shadows and doubt? First, I thought, just another angelic face, another way to spend the tedious hours of the blue-black night when the ghosts creep or come knocking. This time, I turned my back to them, turning towards you and your radiance. When I crawl next to you in the middle of all this perpetual spinning—it is where I want to stay, calm and still—tangled in those things which I can hold no longer—brief, mortal, sudden, forgotten. I have lived too long, drifting, lost on the winter wind’s icy breath, waiting for the warmth of you who hadn’t yet come into my steel-gray world.

Then… one night, one moment in time, there you were and one glimpse told me—I’d been holding my breath, waiting to breathe you in and start living again. How surprised you were, standing there, blue eyes, timid and gazing back—unaware of the way I was immediately lost in the captivating serenity.

So many things blue, you said. Blue walls, blue cups and chairs, blue tokens and mosaics of stained glass. Blue stains on the bed and beneath my feet. Blue bottles on shelves, bits of glass suspended with invisible blue threads peeking through each windowpane, cut edges drinking in the sun, diffusing the subtlety of color into lazy blue rooms. 

Blue, even the way you say that one syllable, as if it were a new word forming in your mouth. Blue, azure, azul, bleu, words that no longer felt old or tired when you said it anew.  
Nothing can touch or define the color of your eyes staring back at me, in truth. Surely, you wonder, what ghost stands before you, wondering whether the sea sparkle or fire blue will glide past you, leaving me floating on a liquid surface, only to sink below and drown.

Were I to sit at the Tomb of Buyan-Quli Khan and touch the blue tiles, comparing the blue to what I see gazing back now, it would only wink and chase me from the hallowed courtyard, brandishing my impertinence to the afternoon sun to wash out the deep cobalts to the palest blue bleeding into the early morning light.

Yet, who wouldn’t grant the indulgence of being in love with that blue? A touch of the imperceptible, underscoring the ache for you to be next to me in the ebony night. Should I just let you proceed, unhindered, and draw back into my walls of temporary sky and allow you to be free to take in the incandescent day with your delicate morpho wings? Were I to cast a net and capture, I am sure I would pin you to a board and stop your flight, for I couldn’t bear to be without you. I would have your beauty beside me, but at what cost?

So shall I reach up to draw that perfection into my sphere or stare instead into the blinding sun, forever leaching the color from my life?

Only, it is then, as your arms wrap me tightly into a crushing embrace when I close my eyes and see with my heart that perfect blue which will never leave me.

**Author's Note:**

> These characters do not belong to me, they are the property of Cassandra Clare and her works of fiction.  
> Thank you to Gypsy for beta reading and for encouragement to write and post!


End file.
